You Need to Face it
by TheWriteStuffs
Summary: Trying to face the countless tragedies is made harder for Bellamy when he can't figure out his feelings for Clarke. He wants to hate her, but only ends up hating himself and needing her more. When Clarke returns from her time with the Grounders, how will they move forward? Eventual Bellarke. Hints of Clexa
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this happened. I sat down, with the intention to write some nice Clarke and Bellamy fluff, when of course my writing took me down an angsty path. This is my first fanfic for the 100, a show that I recently became obsessed with.**

 **This chapter is focused very much on Bellamy, and it's fairly angsty. I do plan on bringing this to a happier place and bringing in more dialogue, eventually! For now…enjoy some good old Bellamy Angst! Thank you for reading!**

Pacing back and forth in his cold, steel clad room, Bellamy let out an impatient sigh. Of course there was more behind his heavy breath than impatience; there was fear, there was anger, and there was a forceful longing that Bellamy refused to acknowledge.

Three months. Three months without a trace of Clarke. Three months of pretending that he wasn't deeply missing something, and that he was _okay_. He managed to convince some of the ark survivors for a while, the ones that didn't really know him. He even managed to find someone to fill a void that he was not aware needed to be filled. _Gina_ was a gift that Bellamy knew he didn't deserve, proven by the fact that now, even she was gone. No trace of her left but a book and the feeling of shame on Bellamy's part.

Even before Gina's death, Bellamy was starting to slip. Kane saw it. Monty saw it. Raven. Lincoln. An unforgiving Octavia. Even Abby, busy trying to bury her own body of grief, saw that behind Bellamy's tough exterior, was a broken man. It was evident that a piece of Bellamy had walked off that day, abandoning him, the same as Clarke. Left behind was the Bellamy that constructed an intricate façade, however unstable it may have been. The only person he was really fooling was, of course, himself.

It was three months. Three months of descending into a resentful, twisted brew of acceptance and hopefulness. He tried to separate the two; to push aside that feeling of hope residing in his core. He wanted so much to just forget; to forget what happened at Mount Weather, to forget the deep bond that he and Clarke had forged from the burdens of leadership. He wanted to firmly accept that Clarke had abandoned them. Not just the ark, but "them" as a team. Bellamy and Clarke. Together.

 _Together._ A word that paced around Bellamy's head with heavy steps since the first events at Mount Weather. It tasted bitter on his tongue as he tried to spit it out, like Clarke had so easily done. Apparently _together_ didn't mean to Clarke what it did to Bellamy.

He wanted to hate her. He wanted to wish that she would never come back, and that he could just fucking accept the fact, however unfair it may be, that there was no _together_ between him and Clarke. He wanted to believe that Clarke was not worth the grief that hammered on his soul every day. Maybe that would cause less pain than acknowledging the truth.

So he kept building up the walls of pretense. Trying to convince himself of a lie that had no backbone. But every now and then, alone in his room for the night, the rest of the camp long asleep, reality would choose to awake him. In the form of a violent, relentless dream or a sudden, unforgiving panic attack, he would be so reminded of the truth. It was a truth that he refused to concede in broad daylight. For him, it was a fear as common as being seen naked in public. For him, the truth left Bellamy emotionally undressed, revealing a part of Bellamy so deep and private that if anyone were to see, he'd feel a type of exposure that he'd never be able to turn away from.

But _the Truth_ remained. Bellamy could never hate Clarke. He could resent her (he did), but he could never hate her, because he _understood_ her. For all the horrifying decisions that Clarke had to make, while Bellamy might not have agreed with some, he's always understood her reasoning. Which is why they worked so well as a team, and why it hurt so much to see her walk away. Sometimes he's just mad that he didn't follow her into the forest that day. He was more mad at himself than at her because rather than hating what she did, he was envious of her freedom. But even with all his understanding and envy, there existed the reckless hope that one day, Clarke would come back. She would come back and they could lead their people _together_ , and they would slay their demons _together_ , and no matter what happened next or no matter how many nightmares would come, it would be okay because they would be _together._

These thoughts, the "what-ifs" that he pondered just tormented and confused Bellamy further. It became easy to transition that hate he tried to create for Clarke onto himself. When he was with Gina, who tried so hard to use her sweet love as a bandage for Bellamy's deep wounds, he hated himself for not being able to return the extent of love that she so openly offered. He really tried to. _Gina Deserved Better._ Better than him. He tried to give her what she deserved, but there was always that stupid _what-if_ in the back of his mind.

It was silly to Bellamy because, well, so _what if_ Clarke would miraculously just waltz up to the gates of Arkadia, fully recovered and ready to commit again to her people. Really, so what? There was no real "what-if" between her and Bellamy, at least none that Bellamy was ready to face. The two were a team, but the implications behind the deep longing Bellamy had to be near Clarke was too much for Bellamy to admit.

Consciously, he strained to convince himself that he only desired the piece of himself that Clarke took with her. He wanted his partner back, and perhaps he wanted his best friend back too. But _what-if_ there was something _more_ to it? Bellamy refused to own this bit of truth.

Three months. For the last three months, this was the battle that Bellamy continued to fight within himself. A battle that he was just not equipped for.

After months of burying away whatever feelings he had for Clarke, news of her whereabouts surfaces. News that she's in trouble. _Wanheda_ is what the grounders refer to her as. The Commander of Death.

He puts all his remaining energy into finding her, because he has to. Even if she abandoned them, he meant it when he said they would face it _together_ , so he has to find her. For so long there was that slight glimmer of hope that, even if he wanted to hate her, she would come back. It takes the knowledge that Clarke is in true danger to make Bellamy realize that he won't ever be able to let go of that thin strand of hope.

That strand of hope ropes into something stronger when he finally spots her across that achingly far stretch of field. It doesn't matter that there is an army of Azgeda only yards away, which could mean life or death for him. Suddenly, it doesn't even matter that by disobeying orders, he's letting his carefully constructed walls crumble to the ground. By going after her, he's undressing his emotions for everyone to see, exposing that last bit of privacy when it comes to how much Clarke means to him.

Literally, he's dressed in more clothing than he's worn before, covered head to toe in Ice Nation armor. Yet sneaking across the field towards the person who's been tormenting his thoughts for the past three months, he's never felt more naked.

The exposure proves worth it when he finds her. However brief their moment is, he _finally_ finds her. Looking at her, finally seeing her, everything is okay. For a minute, he is able to let go of all the pain that the last few months has brought to him. He's just glad to be in this moment, with her.

" _Bellamy_." It whispers out of Clarke's mouth into Bellamy's ears, trailing off into disbelief. It's a question, a statement, and a greeting. All in one breath.

He strokes her hair, if only to make sure that the moment is real. It is, and he promises to get her out. With this promise, he realizes how wrong he was in wishing that he could just forget about her.

It feels like forever ago when she told him that she was the one who needed him. He wishes she would understand just how much he needs her in return.

All is lost in his distraction, and too soon the moment is gone. He's on his back, not sure how exactly he went from saving Clarke to needed to be saved himself. She's begging for his life to be spared, and even in his haze, the thought of her life ending to save his hurts more than the knife that suddenly stabs his leg.

" _Don't follow us!"_ And it goes dark.

Waking up to an empty, hollow underground, Bellamy's not sure if he dreamed that entire sequence. The pain in his thigh reminds him of where he is, and all he wants to do is scream! There were many times in his life that he's lost control of his emotions and acted out violently, hurting others instead of confronting his own pain. Ever since he landed on the ground, his leadership style has always had a threatening component that Clarke would somehow tame in the heat of the moment. But in this moment, he wants to scream out for Clarke. He wants to rampage and he wants to weep because he's never felt so weak and broken. He feels that longing again, tugging at his insides and causing an ache that he didn't know could hurt so much. He let his guard down for one moment. He let himself have that one, sweet moment of reality, and now Clarke was gone again. Possibly for good.

If before he had been able to knot together a solid rope of hopefulness, it is once again reduced to nothing but a thread.

Still, Bellamy refuses to let that thread break, however thin it may be. This is why he's on his feet, struggling, yet succeeding in dragging his wounded leg up the stairs and onwards to Clarke and her capturer. It's harder than he would have imagined, but it would be harder to let Clarke go for good.

When the others catch up to him, his emotions are once again stripped bare. He hears their intentions and the rational part of him knows that they are right and reasonable. He knows that all his hope is hanging by a measly thread; one that would not be able to hold the weight of his careless plot to save Clarke. It takes Monty, perhaps the only other person besides Clarke that can even begin to understand the burdens of what they went through, to convince him to act realistically.

The next few days after finding Clarke happen in a fog. Gina is there, once again trying her best to help him heal, and he's never felt so guilty to be in her presence. He looks at her and she's beautiful and loving and all the things a man could ever want in a woman, and he cares for her, but not to the extent that she deserves. At some point, when he's made blissfully aware that Clarke is _safe_ in Polis, that she's alive and that his thread of hope has suddenly knitted itself into a thick blanket, he knows that Gina knows. Gina knows that Bellamy is not giving her all of himself.

When Gina dies, it's because Bellamy left to go after Clarke. Once again, that weave of hope unravels, and this time, all that's left of Bellamy is an emotional noose, knotted together by more guilt and heartbreak than he's experienced before.

His heart breaks for Gina. Not because he couldn't picture his life without her, but because she died knowing that he could. The thought reverberates through his mind until it becomes a motive for all the crap that comes later. _Gina deserved better. She deserved better. She deserved better! Why aren't you better? Be better!_

He didn't think it was possible for his heart to break further, but then there's Clarke. She's right in front of him, he's found her again, dressed in Grounder attire and looking nothing like the Clarke he thought he knew so well. He hears Raven weeping through the radio, about Mount Weather, and he knows that he just lost Gina. He knows that he should be weeping for her just like Raven, but in the moment, all he can focus on is trying to get through to Clarke.

" _She left us to die in that mountain. She will always put her people first. You should come home to yours."_ His eyes convey their silent plea, but she is not hearing it.

After all they have been through, it shouldn't be this hard. He shouldn't have to convince Clarke to come back with him rather than staying with the person who betrayed them, causing them to pull that lever into madness in the first place. They shouldn't have to keep fighting a war that may never be won. They should be able to go back _together_ to the people they love and they should be able to finally find peace and forgiveness in each other. Bellamy ponders that the Ark and the Ground aren't so different after all; both are unfair and unforgiving.

When she stays behind, once again Bellamy wants to spit out that bitter taste of _together_. To have come all this way, to have lost so much, only to be met with a hesitant "I'm sorry," makes the sadness in his heart simmer, then boil, into resentment and frustration.

When he's back in Arkadia, there is nothing for him. He thought he felt lost before, when Clarke had first walked away. Now, not only is he lost, but there is really nothing left to loose. Even Octavia, the person he would do and had done anything for, is slipping away too quick for him to grasp. He feels selfish, because he knows now that he's not the only one hurting. He and Clarke had fought so hard to protect the 100 and conserve whatever humanity that would be left behind after the battle, but Bellamy could no longer see in others what he was trying so hard to protect. Monty was hurting more than any kid should ever have to in their life; Jasper was driving himself to somewhere in oblivion.

This awareness makes Bellamy's guilt weigh even heavier, and he feels the failure crushing him in a way that sometimes makes it hard to breath.

Perhaps this is why he so easily falls under Pike's leadership.

After so much time questioning decisions and questioning what's right and who's wrong, here comes a man who can bare the confidence that leadership requires. He's not questioning; he's decisive and direct and makes you believe that he has all the answers. Feeling lost is not something that sits well with Bellamy, so when Pike's regime offers him a clear and distinct path, however dangerous I may be, Bellamy cannot keep himself from following.

Pike is right; something Bellamy started to believe. Through Bellamy's vengeful gaze, everything that has gone wrong and everyone he's lost since coming to the ground is the Grounder's fault. Pike gives him a way to make the weight and guilt crushing Bellamy just a little bit lighter, and Bellamy can't resist. He's losing Octavia, the most important person in his life, to the grounders. Finn's dead. _Grounders._ Gina and all his people that are now buried underground or reduced to nothing but ash. _Grounders._

Clarke. The person he put all his trust into and found solace in before everything turned to shit. She may be alive, but she's gone too. He's not stupid. He knows that somehow Clarke is bound to Lexa in a way that he is not, which creates a type of pain and envy that once again, Bellamy refuses to acknowledge. Clarke is gone. _Grounders!_ Everything he cares about and everyone he loves is taken from him by those rotten, savage _Grounders!_

As he follows Pike onto the battlefield, with guns that he himself distributed, Bellamy firmly believes in his hate for the grounders. He believes it because it's easy. To hate the grounders is to take away some of his own self-hate. It gives him a chance to find some form of Bellamy that he used to know; but this is the Bellamy that used anger and violence to control people. This is the Bellamy that let his emotions control his policy; the Bellamy that existed before Clarke.

He only realizes this when it's too late. He realizes it only after he's helped Pike and the rest of his followers wipe out an entire army of hundreds of grounders. Grounders that were there to protect them. He knows this too well.

He remembers the moment a few weeks back when he found Clarke in that underground cave. He had been so happy to see her, and he had let that emotion take over the moment. It distracted him, which is why he wasn't prepared when Roan attacked him, which is why he couldn't defend Clarke, which is why she was now in Polis instead of with him. He decides that whatever emotion it may be, it makes him weak. Bellamy cannot afford any more weaknesses.

He stands on the battlefield, looking out at the sea of corpses, feeling that weight come crushing down on him once again, heavier than ever experienced. This is the same. It may have been a different emotion, anger rather than ecstasy, but still, Bellamy had let his emotions control the moment. Same as when he had found Clarke. The frustration, the aching sadness, the relentless anger that had formed a dark cloud over Bellamy's judgement dissipates, and the hate he placed on the grounders is once again returned to its rightful owner.

He knows there is no going back. He is painfully aware that he can no longer keep track of the lives that have been lost because of him.

This is why, when Octavia comes to him with her own rage, he lets her take him to the dark place. He allows himself to feel the pain of all the deaths he's caused. With every kick, with every gruesome punch, he takes in the hurt and welcomes it like an old friend, knowing it's what he deserves. The pain is worse coming from Octavia, but Bellamy doesn't fight it.

" _You're dead to me!"_ Octavia states through her tears.

Good. At least Octavia can go now, without feeling an obligation or without having their bond to hold her back from living the rest of her life in peace. If Bellamy has to suffer for Octavia to be able to live freely, then so be it. It's been this way their entire lives.

In the days after their attack on the Grounders, Bellamy finds ways to repent. He eats very little; let's himself starve until he makes sure everyone has had plenty of food, then only eats enough to make sure he doesn't pass out. He talks to Kane, sees the disappointment in his eyes and welcomes the punishment. But Kane is too forgiving.

He tells it like it is, " _You attacked an army that was sent to help us. Can't you see that the real enemy lives behind these walls, not out there?"_ But behind those disappointed eyes and pointed facts, is an understanding and acceptance in Kane's expression that overwhelms Bellamy. He wants to shake Kane, grip him by the shoulders and beg him to give him the punishment he deserves. He doesn't.

" _We've gone too far."_ Bellamy talks to Pike, tries to make him understand that they need to find some way to make it right. As the new Chancellor, Pike needs to understand. Bellamy needs there to be peace so that at least everyone else can move forward. _I bare it so they don't have to._ The words throb around his scars.

But Pike is still very sure of himself. He's unapologetically aware of Bellamy's suffering, and Pike looks at Bellamy with a type of disappointment that holds more judgement than actual care. Pike's eyes convey enough that he doesn't need to say aloud. He only sees weakness in Bellamy, and it's clear to him that Pike doesn't understand, that he never could.

It is then that more than anything, Bellamy just feels tired. He's tired of disappointing everyone, he's tired of hurting everyone. He's tired of risking everything they've fought so hard for.

He wants the chance to _live_. He wants to walk away, just like Clarke, and just let go of some of the burdens he carries with him daily. Why does he stay in Arkadia when it's obvious that he only causes more problems for everyone by staying?

While it's not the type of hope that he was looking for, it's _something_. The hope that, maybe if he disappears, everyone else can find some form of peace. And if not, well then at least he won't be around to watch anyone else suffer.

This thought alone brings him to his room, hastily packing anything he has left (which is not much). He's not sure where he will go; somewhere far away. Finn once mentioned a clan by the sea, over 100 miles away. Maybe he'd start there. Of course he would never be able to rid himself of the grief and the guilt that weighs him down, but maybe he could find a way to forget them for a while. Maybe if he pretended to be someone else, eventually he would believe his own lie.

He's not sure if he should say goodbye. It feels wrong not letting anyone know his intentions, but he isn't sure he wants to burden anyone else with the task of explaining to people why he left, like he had to do with Clarke.

Bellamy's inner conflict is interrupted by a calm, yet persistent knock at the door.

He hesitates to open it, worried that it might be Raven or Monty, or any of the other remaining 100. Seeing any of them now would give him more guilt to add to his already heavy baggage.

"Bellamy? Open up, it's Abby. I need to talk to you."

Surprised wavered Bellamy's response. Abby rarely spoke to Bellamy, even before he pledged his loyalty to Pike. It seemed fitting. The two people who were closest to Clarke couldn't stand to be too close to each other. Too many scars between them.

A moment of hesitation, then Bellamy opens the door enough that Abby can only see his face.

"Okay," Bellamy's response is tight, but not unfriendly.

Abby isn't smiling, but she doesn't show signs of anger. Bellamy waits for her expression to mirror the disappointed look on Kane's. Then again, he wouldn't be surprised if her disappointment matched Pike's. Instead, Abby has the expression of a Chancellor; calm, politically correct, yet caring all the same. She looks painfully like Clarke in that moment.

"May I come in Bellamy? It's important." Her words are so calm that it takes Bellamy off guard.

Rather than responding with words, Bellamy allows for the door to open widely, backing away so Aby can step in. She closes the door, once again with an ease that surprises Bellamy. After all the shit that the Arkadians have been through, after all that Abby has to put up with, how she remains so calm is a mystery to Bellamy. He briefly thinks that maybe he could take lessons from her. Then he remembers that it doesn't matter because he's leaving anyway.

Bellamy tries to find his voice among the rubble of his soul, "If this is about what happened with Pike and the Grounders, I want you to know that I know how bad I fucked up. If I could take back anything, it would…" He pauses, reconsidering his words. "It would be that I wouldn't have let Clarke go so easily. I should have fought harder to be better, to be someone like Clarke." The truth of his words make the remnants of scars on his face sting.

Abby nods decisively. She's standing in the middle of the room, holding dominance similar to the Commander's Tower in Polis. Taller and more impressive than anything else in the room. Her eyes wander, and Bellamy knows that she spots his backpack and probably does the math, but she doesn't regard it.

"Bellamy," she starts around the room, pacing slowly, unsure of how to word her thoughts. Bellamy waits patiently for her purpose to make itself clear. "After Mount Weather," she gulps down a moment of sorrow, "After the first event a Mount Weather, when you and Clarke had to make a decision that no one, much less someone so young should ever have to make, I told Clarke something that now I'm going to tell you."

She turns to him, stopping again in the center of the room. Her voice is quiet but extremely confident, "Maybe there are no good guys."

Silence fills the small, steel room around the pair. Bellamy tries to let the words sink it. He wants to hang on tight to every word, hold onto their meaning. Maybe if he could just grasp onto those words, maybe he could find a way to finally accept it.

Bellamy doesn't realize right away that tears have created a stream down his scarred cheeks; wet, salty and raw. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to hear it. You need to know that you're not alone in your guilt, and that I am thankful for all you've done to try and protect my daughter. I know that you tried your hardest to carry some of her burdens, and I appreciate it more than you know.

"But, its time you forgive yourself. We have all done what we believed to be right, even if it turns out wrong. Don't feel guilty about following your gut. I know what Clarke sees in you; she sees a leader with so much passion for his people, and its time you start seeing that in yourself."

Wiping away the wetness on his skin, Bellamy remains speechless, unsure of how to respond to Abby's words.

"I'm also telling you this because the Ark needs you. The kids, the ones you worked so hard to protect, they need you. And Clarke is going to need you too, when she comes back."

At this, Bellamy scoffs, "What makes you so sure that Clarke will ever come back. She's found her place, with Lexa." He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Abby surprises him with a smile. "Bellamy, if you feel something, you should know enough by now to not let those feelings go to waste. There is only so much time on this earth, so don't waste it."

He's about to scoff again, in denial, when Abby continues, "Clarke has made contact with the Ark. She knows what happened with Pike and the grounders. She'll be arriving here at some point today, and she wants to talk to you. So be ready."

Without waiting for a response, Abby heads steadily to the door, letting herself out. She pauses in the doorway, turning back to add one more thing. "I know you feel like she abandoned you, but I also know you understand why she did." She walks away, leaving Bellamy more confused and panicked than before.

Three months of denying just how much he missed and needed Clarke. Then weeks of almost having her, only to lose her again and lose himself in all his grief. How could he face her now, when he was just about to leave it all behind?

Pacing back and forth in his cold, steel clad room, Bellamy lets out an impatient sigh. Of course there was more behind his heavy breath than impatience; there was fear, there was anger, and there was a forceful longing that Bellamy refused to acknowledge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so obviously this fan fic is going to be canon divergent from now on, based on 2x05 (WHICH I LOVED). BUT I'm going to try and fit the tone of everything that is happening in the show as best as I can. I also borrowed some lines from the actual show because I wanted it to be as close to the real thing as I could get without running this story. Hope you enjoy!**

He's not there when she marches up to the gates of Arcadia, put he can picture it all the same. He's been imagining **Her** return since the minute she left.

He sits in his room, still and silent, just another object in the cramped space. A dusty lamp. An unmade bed. A metal chair. A broken Bellamy.

He wonders if Lexa is with Her at the gates, holding Her hand as she trudges in. Is she only here to talk legislation? Is she here because Lexa told Her to come? Is she here to put Bellamy out of his misery, the same way she did for Finn?

He tries not to decide if he wants that or not. Instead, he tries to think of what he's going to say to Her. Will he be able to say anything? Last time he saw Her, he had pleaded for Her to come home. She refused, and he let himself become what she always told him he wasn't. But what he had always been. **A Monster**. _What is there left to say?_

After so much time wanting to be angry with Her, then wanting nothing more than to just be near Her, he can't decide which emotion now outweighs the other. Just a few minutes ago he was prepared to leave Arcadia, and everyone he cared about, behind. Packed and ready to go.

But then Abby was there and she stunned him with the news of Her impending arrival, and Bellamy hasn't moved an inch since. He's frozen in place, paralyzed by the wavering feelings in his chest. He lies back on his bed, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive way, as if it would prevent his heart from breaking further.

Time ticks sluggishly by, practically staying still.

It isn't until there's a firm knock at his door that he realizes he'd fallen asleep at some point. Shaking off his slumber, Bellamy's up from his bed in one, rapid movement. Confusion, then panic, tightens itself around his core, constricting his breath like a snake. Not sure if he's ready to face **Her**. But there's another knock at his door. Soft this time, but somehow more persistent than the last.

"Bellamy?" Though laced with the concern, the tone of Her voice is gentle. It puts some ease on Bellamy's nerves, if just a little.

Bellamy stands from his place on his bed, but hesitates. Behind that door could be only a ghost; proof that he's going crazy or something like that. **Her** being just a figment of his imagination. Maybe he's still asleep; dreaming about Her.

Yet another knock gives him the courage to stop questioning his sanity for a moment. Bellamy rushes to the door in an urgency he hasn't felt since he's landed on earth. He practically LEAPS, grasping onto the door knob and flinging the heavy metal open in a manner in one haste, breezy motion.

When alas he sees Her, that pesky, unwelcome blend of hopeful resentment overrule any sense of panic that existed prior. Of course, without a doubt, he's _relieved_ to see Her. Standing only a foot away from him, breathing and okay. _Alive_. But that relief is overshadowed by the realization that yes, he is very much angry with _Her_.

For the moment, he tries his best to push those feelings aside, accepting the fact that she's there, standing in front of him, and _not_ a ghost. She isn't dressed in grounder attire, like Bellamy realized he was expecting, though Her hair is different; strands of pink and reoccurring braids accompany the long, golden locks that Bellamy has come to associate with Her. It doesn't look as soft and groomed as he remembered, but at least Her face hasn't hardened, even with all she's had to do in this cruel world. No grounder paint this time, just Her. Eyes staring back at him with an intensity that is sure to mirror his own.

She seems to be paralyzed as well. Neither one sure how to progress from where they stand. There are borders between them, distances that stretch on for miles, even with only a foot separating them in reality.

The bitter, indignant side of Bellamy wants to refer to Her as _Wanheda_. Would that make Her understand the pain she's caused him? But he can see that she has Her own anger, Her own eagerness, and Her own misery cowering behind the window of her eyes. No one is right, but no one is entirely wrong either.

He's braced himself for this confrontation; prepared himself to spit out accusations and throw at her all the fury that has resided within him since her abandonment. But in this moment, all he can focus on, is _**Her.**_

" _ **Clarke**_." His voice is deep, both in sound and in meaning.

Clarke. Clarke is here. **He** is there too. And Clarke has a turn to take it all in.

The sound of His ardent voice caresses Clarke's eardrums, smooth like an affirmation. It's confirmation of why she's decided to return to Arcadia. Return to **Him**. His voice jolts through Clarke's chest, and a nagging energy pulsates through her veins. It's a stubborn, perhaps forbidden energy, but _not_ undesirable. Definitely not.

He stands before her, _finally_ , with no immediate threat to interrupt their reunion. He looks the same as she's allowed herself to remember, albeit a bit more tired (if possible). Last she saw Him, he had looked at her will more disappointment and grief than she's ever seen on a man. The burden she had placed on Him with her absence had been so clearly evident on the expression lines between his brows and the glassiness shielding his eyes. But now, standing before her, he looks at her with eyes of _yearning_ and _begging_. She's familiar with the expression; it's a face that belongs in her own repertoire.

That energy (ever so nagging) remains bubbling in Clarke's chest, and it deters her train of thought. She's felt this " _energy"_ before. She tries to attribute it to coincidence. Coincidence that she's only ever felt this sensation before around Finn and Lexa. She's terrified to add Him to that list; it would only bring Him harm. So rather than acknowledging the correlation, she chooses to relate this _energy_ to basic anxiety. Anxiety of confronting not just Him, but months of pent up emotions and regrets. She and Him are about to dive head-first into a pool of grief, that if they're not careful, they could easily drown in.

But Clarke let's herself stop mulling over that energy, or anxiety, or _whatever_ it may be. She allows herself to take in the moment, to focus on his presence. To focus on Him.

" _ **Bellamy."**_ She returns the greeting with equal vigor. She searches his eyes, but she's not met with either pleasantries or debate. Gone is the intensity that first appeared. Just numbness. Silence returns to the divide between them.

Well passed any comfortable amount of silence, Bellamy and Clarke realize they've been standing in limbo for too long, both struggling to climb out of the canyon that separates them.

"You should come in." Bellamy steps aside, gesturing towards his dull, uncharacteristic room. Clarke eyes the dust particles gleaming in the crack of sun; floating around, mimicking the tension that's rapidly covering the room in its own, un-resting molecules.

"Okay." Clarke steps forward, nervously twitching her thumbs as she absentmindedly takes a seat atop Bellamy's dismantled bed. The mattress is still warm from where he lay just a moment ago, and Clarke is reluctant to admit she finds comfort in this. She realizes then that maybe this is a bit too familiar, but Bellamy doesn't acknowledge an elephant in the room if there is one. Instead, he grabs the chair from his desk, dragging it across the floor. The sound of metal against metal makes both of them cringe. More tension hovers around the room.

He places the chair in the center of the room, directly across from her position on his bed, only a foot separating them. He takes his seat slowly, unnaturally, taking every route to delaying the inevitable.

Now in close proximity, Bellamy realizes how badly he wants to touch her. Not in a sexual way (though there is that question; always in the air). He wants to touch her like a porcelain doll; to brush back her hair, like when he'd found the first time, after all those months. He wants to touch her, if only make sure the moment is real. Questioning his sanity again. Not a dream. Not a ghost. But he doesn't quench that desire. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forearms comfortably atop his thighs. He makes a discreet, but deliberate effort to push his chair back a few inches, the closeness suddenly overwhelming.

Clarke is the first to break this pause, but her attempt is weak. "So, um, how is Octavia?"

If he had only been audience to this conversation and not an active participant, Bellamy might have found the pleasantries comically awkward. But nothing was funny about it; it felt unnatural, forced. Whatever ease and comfort that existed between the two before Mount Weather had erased itself, leaving only rubbery residue in its tracks. Brushed away with a breath of wind.

"I don't know," Bellamy admits; his expression sullen, still numb, "I'm _dead_ to her, Clarke. She hasn't spoken to me since she knocked the _shit_ out of me after I fought the grounder army. After _I killed_ them all."

There's another pause in their exchange. Clarke takes note of Bellamy's use of the word "I," like he's the only one responsible, like it's only his burden to bare. It's an ironic twist of fate, all things considering. She tries not to look at him with sympathy. He doesn't want it.

"Bellamy, we need to talk about that," Clarke approaches the subject, dominance unmistakable in her voice. Bellamy then looks directly at her, no longer numb, and Clarke realizes that it's the first time he's initiated eye contact since entering the room. Intensity returns to his eyes, but behind its edge lingers the gaze of disappointment.

"So that's it then?" Quiet at first, then voice intensifying, _"_ That _is_ the only reason you came back! To remind me just how much I _**Fucked**_ up!?" Bellamy scoffed, sitting back in his chair with defiance, forcing the chair back another inch.

Clarke is dumfounded, jaw hanging in disbelief. But it doesn't take long for his words to register and for an inch of her porcelain doll-heart to chip off.

Her words come out slow; methodically and desperate. "Bellamy! _Stop_ that! You _can't_ believe that's the only reason! You have to know…"

" _Why_ Clarke? What reason is there for me to believe you'd come back for anything other than politics!? You only came because it's convenient for you. Well save your breath! I already know how bad I am! How much I fucked up _everything!_ I live with it! I bareit, _every_ day! Every day since you left, I've lived with it!" With that said, Bellamy is up from his chair, pacing the room with stride. Shame…Anger…Pain….they follow him in every step, and Clarke has the urge to hold onto him, if only it could save him.

Clarke stands up too, with equal passion. " _Bellamy_!"

Bellamy stops his pacing, turning abruptly in the direction of her pleading voice.

There is nothing said. He looks at her, and she looks at him. She can see the fragility in Bellamy's stance. She sees the pain that she has caused him, and it burns her entire body with guilt and regret.

But Bellamy moves passed that sorrow and back onto anger. The relief of her presence is once again shadowed by the pure resentment left behind in the wake of her abandonment.

"Bellamy! Whatever mistakes you've… _we've_ made….I know we can move passed them!"

" _We?"_ The word comes out bitter and raw.

"Yes Bellamy. _We._ What happened with Pike…That's not who you are! We need to fix this, and I know that **we** can," she pauses, looking to see if her words are registering. It would appear not. "I need you Bellamy."

"You need me?"

"Yes! I need the guy," her eyes are _beseeching_ , "that wouldn't let me pull the lever at Mount Weather, _by myself!_ "

" _You_ left _me!_ " Another inch of Clarke's heart chips away. "You left _everyone_!"

"Bellamy, please-"

" **Enough** Clarke! You don't get to come back here and act like you understand! You haven't been here! _You_ were the one who let a bomb drop on my _sister_! _You_ were the one who sided with _Lexa,_ who abandoned us and forced us to kill everyone who helped us at Mount Weather! People who _trusted_ me! We said we'd face it _Together!"_

The booming sound of his voice ricochets off the metal walls and into Clarke's reluctant ears. So _**loud**_ and filled with anguish. _This_ she couldn't bare.

Then Bellamy continues; this time so _quiet_ that Clarke has to strain her ears. Quieter than the cries working rivers down Clarke's swollen eyes.

"You were the one…who convinced me that I could be the _good_ guy. You convinced me that we could be strong _together_ ….and then you _left_."

Both Bellamy and Clarke have tears staining their cheeks red, the dam breaking behind their eyes and flooding the room with emotions that neither one felt entirely ready to face.

While the room is silent, Bellamy's words still echo in Clarke's field of sound. They haunt the room. Clarke sits back down on the bed, needing something to parachute her heart as it falls to the ground. She's been aware for a long time how much she needs Bellamy, but it dawns on her that perhaps he needs her too.

On the other side of the room, Bellamy clenches his fists, channeling this instant regret and sorrow into physical repent. His nails pinch the skin of his palms, not quite drawing blood.

Though her throat feels narrow, strained with tears and clogged with phlegm, Clarke forces the words that Bellamy needs to here. Words that Clarke believes and feels deeply.

" _I'm sorry…"_ She looks up at him now, daring to make eye contact. "I'm sorry for leaving. But I knew I could…because they had _you."_

The dam brakes again, releasing all of Bellamy's emotions and letting them drown his sorrows. He feels his lungs tighten and shudder, overflowing with all the grief, spite, regret, happiness, relief, and fondness that exists in his bones. The flood continues to rush down his body, hitting every nerve until finally the water subsides. There is damage, of course. There is still repairs that need to be made. But now Bellamy can take a step forward without being washed away completely.

He takes a step. Then another one. Then another, until he is kneeling down in front of Clarke, tentatively grabbing her hand, finally giving into that desire to touch her.

It's this moment, with Clarke searching his eyes, that Bellamy feels the _**spark**_. Clarke feels it too, that connection, that _energy_ once again. The friction of their hands helps to kindle the flare, igniting a flame that sears the skin of their palms.

Both let go at the same time. The burning sensation is too much to grasp onto just yet.

Bellamy clears his throat, sitting back up and onto the chair again. Back to where they started, but no longer that divide between them. Bellamy casually scoots his chair forward a few inches.

" _I'm sorry too."_

Clarke nods at his apology, a hesitant and welcome smile expressing itself on her skin. This is the beginning. The beginning of their repairs. She notes that this time, she will mend their wounds with a stronger stich. One that cannot be broken so easily, if at all. She never wants to be the cause of Bellamy's pain. Never again. This idea etches itself onto Clarke's subconscious, a commandment set in stone.

With everything out in the air, those particles of tension finally settling down, pure relief encompasses the room. Clarke finds herself bolting into the arms of Bellamy, nearly knocking him out of his stupid chair! She gratefully wraps her arms around his shoulders, burrowing her face into his neck and allowing herself to breath in the scent of familiarity. Bellamy is stunned, but only for a second, before he returns the embrace with full force.

"I missed you." Bellamy whispers against her neck, admittance lacing his tone of voice.

"I missed you too." Clarke tells him shyly, unexpectedly blushing. She pulls back from the hug to make eye contact, finding a different form of intensity behind Bellamy's eyes. It's intense but it's comforting. Both are so eager to mend their bond.

Bellamy briefly runs around the idea of _Together_ in his mind and places it on the tip of his tongue. This time, the word doesn't taste so bitter. It tastes sweet and feels warm.

Clarke is now the one to clear her throat as she settles back to sitting on his mattress, a different (though not unpleasant) degree of tension tiptoes its way through the seams of the room.

"So, um, what now?" Bellamy asks, his voice back to his usual, deep voice. The tension dissipates. Back to familiarity.

As a team, they will decide.

"I don't know," Clarke shakes her head. "Lexa wants retaliation. We have to do something to stop her."

"Are you going back to her?" Bellamy asks outright, hiding any insecurities or doubts behind the vibrato of his voice.

Clarke hesitates, not quite sure of the answer. Both options (staying in Arcadia vs. going back to Polis) are equally as dangerous and maybe equally as selfish.

"I…I don't want to leave Arcadia again," Clarke's voice is strong before an added whisper, "I don't want to leave _you_ again."

Bellamy's heart unexpectedly flutters. It feels like metamorphosis; a butterfly releasing itself from its cocoon and landing on his shoulder.

" _But…?"_ But Bellamy can't get his hopes up just yet.

" _But_ we need to fix this. I want to stay. I really _want_ to Bellamy. I want to face it. I _have to_ face it. But I… _we_ can't face it until we face the problem at hand. We have to find a way to stop Lexa from retaliation. And-"

Bellamy interrupts, "And the only person who can convince Lexa otherwise is _you_." He throws Clarke a knowing look, which she catches, unsurprised that he's put the pieces together.

She nods, regretfully.

Bellamy sighs, looking down at his hands (twisted in a tight knot), as he tries his best to confront the reality. All bets are off. He dares to ask…

"Do you love her?"

Again, Clarke isn't sure how to answer him. _Love?_ What does the word mean anyway? She had thought before that she _loved_ Finn. She _knows_ she loves her mom, her dad (even if he's dead). She loves her People. She loves Octavia, and Raven, and Monty. Miller. Jasper. Everyone.

She _loves_ Bellamy. And the thought scares her, because for once in her life, she can't decipher this manifestation of love.

With Finn, even with Lexa, whatever love that had formed was first caused with that initial infatuation. Sure, in both cases, they shared some type of deeper bond, a mutual respect, a care that went beyond friendship. But there was lust and hunger behind every motive, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. This kind of love was easy to negotiate with and make peace with. It was _easy_ because she could connect the dots and draw the conclusion of romance with no question as to how she got there.

But with _Bellamy_ , that connection is not as clear. She tries to connect the dots, but it's hard for Clarke to find which point leads to another. Too many lines intersect ant the emotions somehow get lost and zigzagged in every direction.

Sure, there is no denial on Clarke's part than Bellamy is an attractive person. That's not hard for anyone to see, really. But initially, when they first got to the ground, whatever attraction or romance that could have possibly surfaced was supplemented by the fact that (at the time), Clarke only saw him as an Asshole, to be frank. He was arrogant, selfish, and reckless when it came to leading their People.

But over time, the idea physical attraction got pushed further to the side by a different line of sight. Getting passed their initial dispute and onto respect and admiration, Clarke paid no mind to the body that housed _Bellamy_. She saw through it. She saw that he was caring, that he was brave, that he was honest and smart. She saw that he would do anything for his sister, and then anything for his people, including her. She saw that he had her back and that _he_ saw _her_ just as transparently. She had no time to confront the idea of physical lust with Bellamy because she was already consumed by a much deeper pull and attraction towards him. He is more than just a romance. He is more than just wanting touch and release.

What they have is much more intimate. She has already seen the most private and sacred parts of Bellamy, in her opinion. She has yet to acknowledge that there is _more_ to explore.

Clarke watches him now, sitting across from her and waiting for an answer that might make or break whatever future would come. For the first time, Clarke allows herself to really _look_ at Bellamy, and see everything _._ She starts by examining Bellamy's face. His jawline is sharp; beautiful and strong like his ability to care for his People. His freckles, scattered around his cheeks like constellations in the sky, are pleasantly unexpected, like the bravery and sensitivity that Clarke has come to associate with Bellamy. The scar above his lips (Clarke then realizes how plump his lips are) represents the damage that has tethered its way onto Bellamy's soul. But it is beautiful none the less.

Moving from his face, eyes darting across his entire expanse, Clarke lets herself be superficial for a moment, recognizing just how beautiful this man is. Before, she had only let herself see beyond his outward appearance, but she is looking at him now with a different set of eyes. It is okay to see all of him. She can see his soul, and window to it.

She's able to sense that their bond has tightened into something _more_. _More_ that friendship. But _More_ than just lust.

The realization takes Clarke be the reigns, but it isn't as surprising to her as it should be for someone _just_ realizing their feelings.

But then comes the question of _Lexa_. Who is Lexa to Clarke? A Traitor? A Friend? A Commander? A Lover? An Agenda? A Bridge?

She can't deny her attraction and connection to Lexa either. But, _Love?_ What on Earth (literally) does that even mean?

"I don't know," replies Clarke. Bellamy lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as Clarke continues. "I, I feel something when I'm around her. Something I felt when I was around Finn."

Bellamy maintains eye contact with Clarke, endurance in his eyes.

Clarke continues. "But….with Finn. I don't think it was really _love_ ," Clarke nods at her own words, discovering solace and understanding in them, "Not in the way that it _should've_ been. I mean, look how that turned out," There is no humor behind her voice, only admittance. "I _respect_ Lexa…. And I'm painfully aware that I should _hate_ her! But, by that logic….I should hate you too. For what you did to the Grounders… But I don't. And I can't. I could _never_ hate you.

"So yes. I've thought about Lexa in _that_ way before. I'm sorry. But _love?_ I don't even know what that **means** anymore… But…" Clarke looks as deep as she can into Bellamy's eyes, trying to convey her silent message. _**But, even if I don't know what love means, I know I love you.**_

Bellamy nods, but Clarke's still not sure he's heard the message. "I understand." But he doesn't. He accepts and understands what Clarke has been through, but Clarke can tell he doesn't understand what he means to her. It hurts her to realize this, but can she risk explaining it to him? Can she risk his partnership and the love that already goes _beyond_ romance?

"So," Bellamy starts, "You go back to Lexa and try to compromise. _Are you going to stay with her?_ And how do we compromise on a 'blood must have blood' negotiation?"

Internally, Bellamy's stomach churns at Clarke's confession. Jealousy cultivates within him, green and ripe as ever before. He wants to grab onto Clarke, handcuff her to the table and forbid her from ever seeing Lexa again, but he can't do that. He can't do that because he loves her, and more than anything, he realizes that he just wants her to be happy.

He _realizes_ , that maybe he loves Clarke in a way that she may never be able to return. He's always acknowledged their bond for what he wanted it to be: no complications. Just partnership, co-leaders, a deep friendship formed on respect and burdens. But once more, he's confronted with the truth that their bond, at least on his side, goes deeper than that. It's what kept him from being able to fully commit to Gina. It's what kept him from ever _really_ accepting the fact that Clarke had left. Their bond is the reason that he would do _anything_ to protect her and _anything_ to make her happy, including letting her go into the arms of Lexa, if that's what she should choose.

"I have to go back to Lexa. Maybe I can talk her out of it? I know that sounds like a weak attempt, but it's the best we've got, for now."

Bellamy nods again, refusing to acknowledge that she didn't really answer his first question. _Are you going to stay with her?_ The thought reverberates around his head, weighing down on his relief.

"If I could, I'd have you come with me. But, it's too dangerous. I can't risk losing you." Clarke is standing now, suddenly ready to confront everything that stands in the way of returning to her People. _Returning to Bellamy_. She knows that she needs to see Lexa again, even in a personal way. She needs to confront everything that Lexa means to her and everything that Bellamy means to her. Only then can she define her own meaning of Love.

Bellamy stands too, not as sure of himself, but also ready and willing to face whatever comes next. It feels a little less like self-loathing when someone can replace that hate with forgiveness. And both will leave with this comfort in mind.

They're walking to the door, each step bouncing with an eager stride, leaving behind a hopeful footprint. They turn to each other, about to say goodbye again. (They do this too often.)

The air between them is tense for another moment, silent. Clarke looks past his expression, searching for his mind. She tries to convey everything she has, every belief that he is hers: her person (whatever than entails). There's a second, only a brief, tiny second that realization reaches Bellamy's eyes. The side of his mouth (the one with the scar) quirks up, ever so slightly. The moment disappears as quick as it came, replaced by a longing and impatience in both their eyes. Ready to get on with it.

Clarke won't touch him though, not until she figures it out. She vows to herself; the next time she sees Bellamy, she will see _all of him_ and all of what he means to her. Only then can they move forward with whatever fate will follow. She takes one last glance around the room, sketching it into her memory. She spots the bag that Bellamy had packed, and she realizes that he was going to leave. She so glad he didn't.

"May we meet again." Bellamy states, his voice comes out rough, yet confident.

"May we meet again." Firm, with conviction.

She leaves the room quickly, not looking back. She holds to her vow. She has a new mission, and she's ready to face it.

 **Okay! So I hope I was able to capture some of Bellamy's and Clarke's true characteristics I'm happy that I sat down and wrote this! From purely a writing standpoint, I had fun with the chapter! Man this took me a long time! I know it's pretty packed with emotions…and I admit that in the real show I don't think Bellamy and Clarke are at this point yet. But hey, that's what Fanfiction's for! Anyway, Hope you enjoyed it! I will try to write more soon! TBH I don't really have a direct plan for where I want to take this…just some ideas floating around my overactive imagination!**


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